When my world ended
by Epiphany Under Moonlight
Summary: {Song by Evanescence, Hello} She wasn't supposed to go away. To leave without a goodbye or a reason, but she did. And now our prodigy is suffering, Yugi's suffering... and how does a savior overcome his grief from the loss of one who was supposed to live


Yami Bakura casually walks into a room to see the authoress of this fic standing next to a wall and banging her head against it rhythmically. The white haired boy raises an eyebrow but doesn't to say anything, in his opinion the girl was always weird, it would only be a matter of time before she cracked...and that time had come apparently.  
  
...He sees her computer screen shining brightly and notices the typed words...interested he walks forward, this usually meant that she had finished writing a new story...and as long as he wasn't the main character this was good thing.  
  
"Hello...what's this?", he scrolled down and read the words, his brown eyes flicking across the screen.  
  
After picking up the general bits of it he steps back a smile on his face, "Not bad. In fact it's very good, you made the pharoah's welp miserable.", he tilts his head to the side waiting for some response but all he is given is the continuos pounding noise.  
  
Impatient he growls, "What the hell's wrong with you?", the pounding ceases for a minute.  
  
"Bakura read it again and then tell me if you notice anything", the boy reluctantly obeys her, "Yeah so?", a pause and then, " It's a songfic...and you know how much of the song is actually inside the fic...one freaking verse.". Bakura steps back and skims over it again, "Huh...yeah, you screwed up."  
  
The young girl then proceeds to chase after him with a baseball bat.  
  
...Anyway on with the fic.  
  
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...  
  
...  
  
...  
  
...  
  
Playground school bell rings again, rain clouds come to play again.  
  
Has no one told you she's not breathing?  
  
Hello  
  
I'm your mind giving you someone to talk to  
  
Hello  
  
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...  
  
...  
  
...  
  
...  
  
Playground school bell rings again.  
  
The petite child standing on the old wooden swing in the kindergarton playground, swung back and forth slowly...quickly, up and down.  
  
Ordinary life went on oblivious to him as car after car crept slowly down the slicked tar road and people walked silently down the crowded sidewalk, hidding under their protective sea of black umbrellas.  
  
He himself didn't have his umbrella, he never did.  
  
Always forgot it in the little wooden stand inside the Game Shop, no matter how often Granpa and his Mommy reminded him with notes and long discussions, he always did, and today was no exception.  
  
So today he was as wet as wet could be...maybe even more wet...  
  
And he didn't care.  
  
...  
  
He swung forward pushing his sneaker-clad feet high into the air and his head down onto the ground, his hair mere inches from the muddy floor.  
  
He didn't really care about anything anymore...but getting caught in the rain...?  
  
That was silly.  
  
...stupid.  
  
...  
  
Everyone else he knew treated the weather like it was a curse sent to punish them, an annoyance whose only purpose was to slow them down.  
  
They saw it for everything but what it truly was.  
  
A present, a blessing, a gift.  
  
From theh heavens to the earth.  
  
Prayer, present, and payment all wrapped in one.  
  
But that was his opinion...and it was biased.  
  
His Mommy reminded him far too much of the rain and since knowing her, he couldn't begin to understand all the feelings that floated beneath him when the droplets came.  
  
And besides...he prefered the simple childishness of getting wet in the rain.  
  
Of the little bit of freedom he was granted and all the special treatment that came with it.  
  
Of walking home soaked to the bone with his very best friend.  
  
The heat being turned up just for his sake, the hot chocolate with dozens of tiny marshmellows floating in it, and a warm and inviting bed with lots and lots of hot blankets.  
  
And inside the bed...  
  
Two of the most important people he knew lying there waiting for his company, in love with themselves, with eachother, and with him, and the impossibly comforting sleep that came when he was wrapped up in both of their arms and lost in candy-coated dreams with happy endings at every turn.  
  
He smiled at those happy thoughts, how long ago had it been since they had done that...?  
  
Since he had slept at his very best with Mommy and Daddy at his side?  
  
...  
  
Ummm...  
  
And one violet orb closed in thought.  
  
...  
  
Domino had been going through a very rainy spell lately, his Mommy almost seemed to attract the rain no matter her mood or wants, and each time the drops came down on the small city, everything was lost in a faerie tale.  
  
The neighborhood he thought he knew so well was suddenly transformed into something strange and wild and fragile, with moody blue skies and jungle green earth, and everything wet and unreal and intensified.  
  
And the last time they had slept together in the more comforting sense, had been last Friday.  
  
...Last Friday.  
  
He smiled again for uncounted moments remembering the warmth of body heat surrounding him on all sides, their smells all mixing together to form something slow and intoxicating, the feel of having someone so close to him that he had missed so much, he remembered it all ...  
  
...Until consciousness caught up with him and it faded.  
  
All the memories and dreams.  
  
...  
  
He realized something then...and it nearly destroyed him, causing the innocent smile that brightened his face to slid away.  
  
...  
  
But...  
  
That wouldn't happen today...  
  
He wouldn't be safe, and warm, and...he couldn't dream, all he had now were nightmares.  
  
Hollywood horror stories.  
  
...  
  
It wouldn't happen.  
  
Not when he wasn't yet in school despite being two hours late.  
  
Not when the world refused to slow down so that he could think, truly just think for one minute.  
  
Not when he was so confused.  
  
So very, very confused and nothing in the world made sense the way it should have.  
  
Absolutely nothing.  
  
...  
  
...If only today could be like other days...  
  
And the sooner he went to school, the sooner the bell would ring and the day would be over...and then he would walk home with his Yami by his side in the rain, and when they got home...he could just be himself, purely.  
  
Talk about the things he wanted to talk about without restriction, hold his Yami's hand without everyone thinking they were lovers, think shared thoughts in their mind meant just for the two of them and laugh without being stared at, play games, have a pillow fight, and giggle when Gia did something so completely out of her nature.  
  
Tease.  
  
He could just be with the two of them.  
  
Be his Father's son.  
  
Be his Mother's son.  
  
Be the world's salvation.  
  
Be the little boy that had been forced to leave the world at the young age of four, in a land of fiery heat, and golden sands, and pyramids made from ancient stone.  
  
He could just be.  
  
Be anything and abolsutely everything.  
  
Be himself as he couldn't be with others...  
  
Mother...Elaine...there was a big problem there, and he honestly didn't what to do, how to deal with...with everything...  
  
...He had always thought that Elaine was his mother...always, that was what had made sense once...  
  
Granpa's daughter.  
  
His Mother...but then something had changed.  
  
In a dream, in real life.  
  
In his mind.  
  
...  
  
And he realized that the shy fifteein year old that had moved to Domino not too long ago, that had once vistied his house frequently, and had once been one of his closer friends...he realized that she was so much more than that.  
  
And even though he'd betrayed her and didn't know her at all anymore, he would find her and know her again.  
  
Find her, and know her, and keep her.  
  
Make her his, and he...hers.  
  
It was unfair, yes but...possession certaintly was not kind.  
  
And he tried to find her, to see if it was true.  
  
If it could be true.  
  
It seemed too impossible to be true, but if he saw her then he'd know...he'd know if it truly wasn't Elaine, so he looked for her.  
  
And looked for her, and looked for her, and looked for her.  
  
And finally he found her.  
  
She had changed...a lot, and was almost too different to be her.  
  
But...  
  
He knew no matter what...how could one not recognize their own Mommy...?  
  
...  
  
Her hair was much shorter than in Egypt, she had cut it almost directly after the trick so that it just barely brushed the tops of her shoulders instead of warming her lower back, and her eyes...blue yes, but...one eye had...traces, almost shards of green in it and made it seem an entirely different color than the first.  
  
Sad eyes, bright eyes.  
  
She hid those eyes behind simple square reading glasses that she didn't need, and there was nothing warm and kind about her face now, instead it seemed, she seemed blank and cold...and empty.  
  
But...and he swung even higher than before.  
  
All at the same time.  
  
Her hair was the same exact shade, pale, pale blond, almost white. The milky porcelain skin that had stood out so much in Egypt was the same.  
  
And her eyes...it was, it had been a violent trick, maybe it...maybe...one eye had...  
  
Maybe he just didn't know anything at all.  
  
Things had changed beyond even his understanding and she certaintly was not quite the same person on the inside, he should have just left her alone, they couldn't be together.  
  
They couldn't...  
  
...But he couldn't forget.  
  
He wanted her, he wanted to hold her, and tell her how sorry he was, and beg for forgiveness, and ask her how this, any of this could be possible, how she could be the same but still be...so different, and even be without being reincarnated.  
  
But most importantly he wanted to be her son.  
  
He wanted to fall asleep easilly in her arms, and be told bedtime stories and faerie stories and morning stories, he wanted her to make him breakfast, and be there when he came back from school, and sooth away the hurt that came from nowhere sometimes,  
  
He wanted a Mommy.  
  
His Mommy.  
  
He wanted to be her son.  
  
But he couldn't...not right away, he was too ashamed of what he had done.  
  
So he slowly tried to apologize, again and again, no matter how many times she refused him he continued to try, and finally in a year's time.  
  
He had managed.  
  
He had won...in a sense.  
  
And at that moment, together, and just outside a church.  
  
They way she had looked so...miserable, he felt awful.  
  
Sick, sad, scared.  
  
And with a gasp and sad, pained words, she had cried and told him off.  
  
That he was cruel, and unfair, and that his Father was a task-master and that...that...that they had no right to ask anything of her, and...  
  
And then she had just sobbed.  
  
And he hurt, and he deserved it.  
  
But when she stried to run, Yami came out and held her tight, tight, tight, to him and for the first in a very long time, she held him back just as tightly.  
  
"Don't let me go, please don't let me go. I'm begging you".  
  
And they hadn't, not since then, and since then...life had taken a turn for the better.  
  
When he spoke, she listened, and when he sat with her or fell asleep in her arms, she didn't act like she was bearing torture.  
  
She smiled more, and laughed every now and again, and every so often he would catch Yami flirting with her, playfully flicking her hair, smiling at her, leading her away for private talks...right.  
  
He was naive, not stupid, and even then.  
  
And he was happy for them, they deserved eachother, they had suffered for eachother, and they were meant for eachtother.  
  
And more importantly they did love eachother, no matter how much they tried to fight eachother or deny eachother.   
  
They were in love.  
  
And she was his Mother, and Yami his Father, and it was right, all of it.  
  
The three of them together was perfectly right.  
  
And Elaine, and Granpa, and his friends.  
  
They didn't understand...they wouldn't understand.  
  
They refused to.  
  
...  
  
Accept him for what he truly was.  
  
Instead they held on tightly to what they wanted him to be...and he wasn't sure if he could be that anymore.  
  
...  
  
...If only...  
  
If only everything could come together and be fine.  
  
But there was only one way he knew that his world would be perfect.  
  
...And he didn't want Yami to do that.  
  
So he found himself spending more and more time with his parents and less and less time with everyone else.  
  
And no one approved.  
  
But if today could only have been like other days, he wouldn't have cared.  
  
...  
  
But today wasn't like other days, he knew, and he hadn't yet mustered up the courage to face what was trying to consume him so violently.  
  
The nightmare hiding behind his dreaded normality.  
  
So instead on his way to school, he had caught sight of the empty playground and all the equipment lying untouched by the little hands and fingers, and temptation had beckoned, reached, and held him tight, and he had rushed off inorder to forget.  
  
And he played.  
  
...He had been on these particular swings for two hours now...just playing and not thinking.  
  
...  
  
At first he had wanted to think about it, to process it slowly through his mind and...try and make it not so...heartwrenching...but then...he had thought about it.  
  
While he walked slowly to high school in the pouring rain, and he had found, that more than anything he didn't want to think about it.  
  
He didn't even want to know it, all he wanted to do was forget...  
  
That he ever knew and that it had ever happened...and that's what he was doing now.  
  
Forgetting.  
  
And he felt happy.  
  
Sad and happy and sad...  
  
But happy.  
  
Even though he wanted to cry and sob and curl into a fetal ball lost in covers and darkness and Yami, dear, sweet, wonderful Yami, he wouldn't, because that would mean that it was true...and it wasn't.  
  
It wasn't, because they couldn't do that to him, not after all the times he had saved this miserable world and the greedy people forever trying to feed on what was his, they couldn't, wouldn't, wouldn't even dream of doing that to him.  
  
They wouldn't...they wouldn't.  
  
They couldn't.  
  
...  
  
So he didn't think...he merely played on the swings and smiled at nothing.  
  
And nothing inturn smiled back at him, surprised by the one that had fallen into the twilight.  
  
With light-stained shadows of confusion, and crying demons in human form, and tommorows that promised only to stab at broken hearts.  
  
...  
  
...It was better for him not to think.  
  
It was better just to feel, and fantasies were much gentler than honesty, much kinder than reality.  
  
The world was less frightening when he lied to bend the truth, much better when he looked out upon it from rose-colored lenses.  
  
And he swung, and watched, and didn't think a blessed thought.  
  
Again and again, over and over.  
  
And he didn't feel as empty as when he had started this day.  
  
...  
  
Now he merely felt lost...  
  
...  
  
Beautiful violet orbs that were usually so enthralling and contemplative now had a glassy look, empty...but not, and the pink pouting rosebuds that were his lips were lost in a smile that was not.   
  
Sad, haunting,...odd.  
  
Not at all meant for him.  
  
It gave an expression to his face that seemed just wrong, a touch of a cruel epiphany mixed in with a smile of false hope and eyes that saw nothing but the rain, and what they chose to.  
  
...  
  
He was changing.  
  
...  
  
He ignored the curious and dissapproving looks of passerbyers as they stared on at the young teenager who should have been in school at that time, and smiled as he went higher and higher.  
  
Up and down.  
  
Up...and down.  
  
Closer and closer to the sky.  
  
Closer and closer to heaven.  
  
Closer and closer to...  
  
Yes.  
  
His hands gripped the worn ropes that kept him from the earth with deadly force and the clean, dry, and warm school uniform that his Daddy had made for him just this morning was now slack from the force of the continous showers and clung to his fragile skin.  
  
He was sooo cold...  
  
...He couldn't quite feel his fingertips...or his fingers, or his hands really.  
  
Sooo cold...  
  
...  
  
...He knew better than this...while Father let him play in the rain.  
  
Dance, and skip, and run to his heart's content, and even played with him at times, to keep his dear son company.  
  
He also limited his time under the sky's tears because he didn't want his son to get sick.  
  
...  
  
He was so careful about things like that now...  
  
Sickness, disease, weakness...any signs at all of...decline.  
  
...  
  
Daddy wouldn't like this, he should be in school right now.  
  
Learning, growing,...living...  
  
But Daddy understood.  
  
Daddy...understood why.  
  
He gasped slightly as he felt his body temperature drop and drop, he was getting much colder with each passing moment and his body felt numb.  
  
He could barely feel himself anymore.  
  
But Daddy would approve...hopefully.  
  
His bit his lip when once again he shivered and his skin tingled with chills.  
  
This feels like...  
  
...like...  
  
But not quite.  
  
...  
  
He didn't know about that yet, and nor did Yami.  
  
Neither had taken a bite from that poisonous fruit just yet.  
  
And he never wanted to.  
  
Never ever, ever.  
  
...  
  
...His Daddy had asked him once before if...if he wanted eternity, the way he felt it, the way Mommy felt it, life on and on without end.  
  
Forever changing, forever growing, never aging except in the soul, the heart, the mind.  
  
The places where it truly counted.  
  
...It had scared him then.  
  
To think of it, made him go into a cold sweat, and shiver, and gasp but now...he did, now.  
  
He wanted to be immortal.  
  
He wanted it the same way he wanted his Mommy.  
  
Mommy...  
  
God, he wanted his Mommy.  
  
He tilted his head back and closed his eyes, so that shallacked lashes rested on the bit of skin just above his cheeks, as clear droplets danced down upon his face.  
  
Cold, pattering carresses.  
  
It wasn't the best feeling in the world, he had had better moments but this...  
  
Was what he needed right now.  
  
A cold carress, a carress of some sort, one that wasn't as hot and tempting as sin, but empty and cold and...not Daddy's.  
  
...  
  
...He hurt...  
  
On some lonely, unconscious level he knew it.  
  
Something inside him hurt...and it was not Yami...it was him.  
  
Him.  
  
He hurt.  
  
...hurt.  
  
He hadn't hurt in so long.  
  
He almost sobbed then, despite how he had forced himself to forget it was coming back to him in flashes and words and...pictures.  
  
Horrible, horrible pictures.  
  
How long had it been since he hurt...?  
  
...  
  
And he bit his lip almost drawing blood, as the saddest expression came across his face, and one more image ran through his mind.  
  
...He hated that picture.  
  
That one particular awful, awful picture...  
  
And he came very close to crying then, to letting go of the rope so that he could fall where he may on the ground and just fade away, to running away and doing something that Yami was terrified of him even thinking of, to giving up and letting the evil in the world claim him.  
  
He came very close...  
  
But then midnight lashes fluttered against milky porcelain before drifting open, and those sad violas that were his eyes stared up at the sky.  
  
...  
  
That's where you went...when you were a good person...right?  
  
...  
  
...Then that's where she would be...  
  
Because she was good, no matter what.  
  
What she was born as, what she lived as...she was good.  
  
...  
  
...  
  
But that was only if she was gone, and she wasn't...  
  
She was still here, alive...  
  
He just didn't know where she was, or why she hadn't come back...or why Yami had been crying so brokenly that day, or why...why something inside of him recognized a loss.  
  
Why he felt so...  
  
...  
  
But she was still alive...and nothing...  
  
Nothing was wrong.  
  
Everything was okay.  
  
He was okay.  
  
Yami was okay.  
  
Everything was okay.  
  
Everything.  
  
Yes.  
  
He smiled.  
  
His hair danced the littlest bit with the small breeze from his ride and the golden puzzle hanging around his neck was even heavier than usual, shifting to absorb the weight of a rainfall it never would have encountered in Egypt.  
  
The simple bookbag he was forced to carry everyday of his life was so heavy it caused his entire form to shrink every so slightly, making him look much younger than his fifteen years, and everything he carried inside of it was ruined.  
  
Everything.  
  
But it was okay.  
  
It was.   
  
It was...  
  
...  
  
He blinked and for a moment a simple human light came back in his eyes as he abandoned his almost catatonic state for a look around him.  
  
...  
  
The little children hadn't come out today.  
  
...  
  
Rain clouds come to play again  
  
And for a second he was nervous, afraid even, and he couldn't comprehend it.  
  
...  
  
Where were they?  
  
...  
  
They were usually always out in the morning...  
  
Why was he here by himself, even where the young ones always roamed...he was alone.  
  
He had always been young on the inside, small on the outside, always been welcomed here.  
  
By the children and the teacher.  
  
So why was he being denied now...  
  
Why...?  
  
...  
  
What had he done to deserve such a punishment...?  
  
What had he done?  
  
And then he remembered.  
  
...  
  
Little children were precious, and were to be cherished...not to be left out in the cold and rain.  
  
Not to be left alone with such a volatile thing as the elements and nature.  
  
Little children were loved and cared for that much.  
  
...  
  
He...  
  
Why hadn't his Daddy...come for him...?  
  
...  
  
Oh.  
  
He was precious, and cherished, and loved, but Daddy needed time to...oh.  
  
Loss, mourning, grief...  
  
...over the one that they had...lost...?  
  
No!  
  
God, it wasn't true!  
  
It wasn't true.  
  
He had lied to him.  
  
She wasn't gone, she wouldn't leave him...she wouldn't...she had told him so herself.  
  
...  
  
She would come back to them...both of them.  
  
She would, she would...she had to.  
  
His brilliant blond bangs were damp and flat against his angelic face and the usually spiky midnight black and proud fuschia hair was a limp mass from the steady heartbeat of the rain going on around him.  
  
Heartbeat...  
  
He remembered the feel of Yami's heartbeat against his chest when he had pulled him close and told him the bad news...he remembered then how he couldn't feel his own heartbeat...  
  
He still couldn't.  
  
...His heartbeat and other things, he didn't feel anything around his own Granpa anymore.  
  
Not anything.  
  
Love, hate, disgust.  
  
Nothing.  
  
He couldn't really taste certain foods anymore, and he got cold so easilly, lost so quickly.  
  
And Yami was so worried about him, Yami who should be able to mourn for his pain couldn't, because his dearest Yugi was in a state that the light never should have been in.  
  
And he was worried.  
  
...He didn't need to be.  
  
But he knew, too, that he should be.  
  
There was something wrong with him.  
  
His precious little boy.  
  
...  
  
...He had told Yami that he didn't want to talk about it, that he didn't want to stay home, that he didn't need his help walking to school, he had promised that he would make it there on time and that everything would be okay.  
  
That he would be okay.  
  
That nothing, absolutely nothing was wrong.  
  
And he had smiled, brightly, happilly, enigmatically.  
  
And pained crimson had regarded him seriously before pouting lips pressed gently against his forehead and he was given a soft good-bye.  
  
And here he was two hours later, still not in school, without his Yami by his side.  
  
...  
  
...Did this count as lying...?  
  
He sighed and lowered his head to stare at the brown earth, probably, but...but, but there were no buts.  
  
He had lied...to Yami.  
  
He had lied, he was a liar...  
  
...  
  
He hadn't meant to.  
  
...  
  
Later...when he finally came back from the school he hadn't yet gone to...he would tell Yami all about it...and tell him that he was sorry.  
  
...  
  
He was so very sorry.  
  
...  
  
...  
  
...He didn't understand, when did it stop feeling like there was a sharp rusty dagger where his heart had once been.  
  
When did he stop feeling like a shadow amongst men...?  
  
A noone amongst everyones and someones and anyones.  
  
...  
  
He had been told on Monday, today was Wednesday...so maybe in...how many days...?  
  
...  
  
...  
  
Sometimes he would catch his Granpa staring off into space while soundlessly mumuring the name of his dead wife, wizened violet shimmering with unshed tears...  
  
...  
  
She had died thirty-five years earlier so...  
  
So...his pain wouldn't end for...forever.  
  
He sighed again and a bright glimmering diamond threatened to fall from him but he wouldn't let it.  
  
He closed his eyes and looked up towards the heavens once more before smiling again, eyes still closed.  
  
Why should he cry...everything was absolutely okay.  
  
He was wet.  
  
That was okay.  
  
He was late.  
  
It was forgiveable.  
  
He knew that something was different, and wrong, and bad, and...he just didn't care.  
  
He couldn't care.  
  
Because everything was okay.  
  
Everything was okay.  
  
That's why...that's why he was here, in the playground of a moodly blue kindergarton, swinging on the swings...  
  
Because everything was okay.  
  
Everything was...  
  
It had to be.  
  
There was no room for it not to be.  
  
...  
  
He swung at a steady pace and leaped forward towards an uncertain future only to cower back towards a heartbreaking past.  
  
Forward and back, and forward, and back, nowhere to go waiting for the peace to come from the nothing that hadn't gone wrong.  
  
...He would stay here till it didn't come.   
  
And if it didn't come...then he would never go back again...  
  
...Ever...  
  
...  
  
...  
  
If he was a little late no one would care.  
  
He was always late, always...so this was normal.  
  
This was good.  
  
Everything was good.  
  
And he had an excuse.  
  
He had just wanted...   
  
...  
  
Just wanted to feel the raindrops against his skin like when they used to walk together in the day.  
  
And his hand would be warm and small within her own, the thin fingers intertwined with her own, and they would walk down the street.  
  
One of her hands holding his own and the other clutching a white umbrella to protect them both from the rain as they passed parks, and people, and storefronts.  
  
And as they walked, he would talk about everything that had happened that day, and the day before, and anything that had crossed his thoughts that he just wanted to share.  
  
And she would listen.  
  
She would always listen, and listen, and be so quiet that he just had to talk...about everything.  
  
So he did.  
  
And it was perfect, almost etheral the way everything was just so...right as they walked and were together.  
  
...  
  
And they loved eachother...she was his Mommy and he, her beloved son.  
  
{sniff}  
  
And it was right.  
  
Right.  
  
Nothing about their relationship had been wrong.  
  
Nothing!  
  
...Nothing...   
  
No matter what anyone said.  
  
{sniff}  
  
So he would talk, and they would walk, and then...a little burst of pure, true happiness and ever so gently, ever so kindly, he would knock the umbrella from her hands and it would only take a second.  
  
For the shock, the surprise on her face and the guilty pleasure on his own.  
  
And as she looked at him and he back at her, the rain would come down so quickly and soak her and himself so completely in a matter of moments.  
  
And she loved the rain.  
  
You could see it in her eyes, the way they sparkled and skimmed over everything he thought he knew, and she would turn, around and around almost dancing.  
  
And they would both be so wet.  
  
Till it was as if they had taken a shower together with their clothes on.  
  
And he would laugh, because everything was right and stare at her, as she sweetly glared at him.  
  
...  
  
She was always so very beautiful right then.  
  
Her pale blond hair wet and hanging against her skin, her blue and green eyes made all the more brighter by the subdueness of everything around her, and her dress.  
  
Funny.  
  
Frilly, but not really, filmy and pretty and feminine, a little more old-fashioned than modern standards called for, a little more proper than anything meant for someone her age.  
  
But he liked her dresses...  
  
And because, because she was...is...  
  
Because she is my Mommy I could, could rush into her arms, and hold her, and be held by her and promised that everything would be okay, and everything wold be okay.  
  
Everything would be perfect, just because she said so.  
  
{sniff}  
  
And we grew soaked... and I would hold her tight and wait, and slowly her hands would come to rest on my back and my head would rest just above her chest, and we would stand there for a moment's eternity and everything was absolutely okay.  
  
{sniff}  
  
Because no matter how many people stared at the two teenagers holding eachother, and no matter how much their present situation did and didn't resemble a romantic relationship he didn't care.  
  
She did, about other's thoughts, other's opinions...but she cared more about his happiness.  
  
And for that he would always be thankful.  
  
But for others...it was none of their damn buisness, and they had no say in what he chose to do.  
  
None at all.  
  
And he would bury his face into her shoulder, smiling into the soft fabric and gently smelling the scent that came off of her so strongly, pure rain it was, that smell, and pull away, and as he stared at her and smiled at her.  
  
She would smile at him too.  
  
Without fear or hesitation.  
  
And then...there would be gentle fingertips on his shoulders, and then there would be the smell of jasmine and spice and ashes from heat, and then...a face pressing onto his head and he knew, just knew that rubies as red as blood would be peeking out from the top of his hair, and a smile as sharp and deadly as razors, though hiding, was real and meant for the both of them.  
  
Just for the two of them, everything just for the two of them.  
  
The whole wide world just for the two of them.  
  
And they would stand, stand and hold eachother and think shared thoughts of happiness, and then they would walk home.  
  
His Yami on one side and his Mommy on the other, each holding his hand.  
  
And he would smile though the showers grew stronger and the sky darker, and stare up as he held both hands tight.  
  
And he knew...that while he stared, they sneaked shy glances at eachother and smiled and blushed.  
  
Lovers again...perhaps not yet of the flesh since Egypt and his birth, but truly of heart, truly of soul, and he couldn't be happier for them and himself.  
  
And her smile...a little fearful, a little small, but so very pretty.  
  
And he remembered the feel of raindrops on his face.  
  
And that perfect afternoon.  
  
...  
  
...  
  
That was one of his most favorite memories...one of the good ones before...  
  
Before...  
  
Gia.  
  
...Mommy.  
  
...  
  
...  
  
He continued to swing, the momentum from his movements kept him going fast and made the world nothing more than a blur.  
  
He liked it this way, the world was nothing more than shadow, substance, and color.  
  
Nothing real and harsh and solid.  
  
...  
  
A steady figure rested against the open gate of the kindergarton and though he held his gray umbrella close to his face, shadowing it, and though his fraying hair blocked off most of his sober expression, nothing could hide the sad intenisity in the violet eyes that matched his grandson's.  
  
He watched as the boy swung back and forth on the weathered swings a smile so bright it was almost blinding plastered across his young face.   
  
He frowned as he watched him...it was almost as if...  
  
As if...  
  
...  
  
Has no one told you she's not breathing?  
  
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Yami (the pharoah) stares down at the fic with dismay, "Well the fic is well written...I just wish it wasn't my son that was in it. Anyway...please review...for our sakes.".  
  
Walks away but is then pushed back by the authoress, she mouths a few things to him and he repeats, "Uh...she wants you to review again...and if you can try...and see if you can pick up on the different song lyrics, though slightly changed to fit the fic and...she also wants to let you know that in some places it is tradition that when a person heart has been broken they cut their hair extremely short sometimes even going bald. In Gia's case she had very long hair so she cut it so that it almost didn't touch her shoulders. ...Anything more? And review...yeah."  
  
Authoress waves happilly, while Yami wonders what's happened to Bakura.   
  
Also I'm feeling like I ripped off another author a little, would anyone mind responding to whether they think I did or not and putting it in a review, I'd love you for it, the author's name is CaRoLyN CsOhJv, thanks again! 


End file.
